


Fading

by TerminallyIntroverted



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:02:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4489359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerminallyIntroverted/pseuds/TerminallyIntroverted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate colors AU. All his life, Sadiq has only known grey. He never expected to find his soulmate, but when he meets his new roommate, Heracles, his life becomes a torrent of color... even if Heracles sees nothing at all. Sadiq is forced to keep what he sees a secret. But Heracles seems off, and as time goes on, Sadiq can only wonder why his colors are fading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fading

The first is green.

Sadiq stands by the window in his apartment, drumming his fingers against the cold, grey ledge, looking out into the grey, rain-soaked sky. He hums as he does so, chest tight with anticipation. It is another grey day; just as placid as all the others, because all Sadiq knows is grey. It is a normal day, basked in a normal color, and a perfect day for a new roommate to move in and make things interesting.

Sadiq glances about his apartment, seeing it empty for one last time. All around him are his belongings, his territory, his life. If he squints he can nearly see the barrier built around it all. But now all of that is breaking down, tumbling like the wall of Berlin and dissolving into a pile of grey ash. Solidarity comes a price- a price too expensive for Sadiq these days. He sighs, shrugs, surrenders... Then he smiles.

The rain pounds heavier against the window; Sadiq chuckles. Whoever he's about to meet picked a horrible day to move. He knows almost nothing about him, save for his name, his nationality, and- thanks to a two minute phone call- that he had a voice like molasses down a hill. The mystery is almost exciting. Almost.

When the unlocked door creaks open, Sadiq jumps to attention. However, the first thing to greet him is not a person, but a cat. It scampers unbidden across the barren floor and under Sadiq's feet in a blur of grey, and Sadiq curses under his breath as he jumps back. "Oh, what the hell..."

"Socrates, come back..."

The voice matches- drawn out, beyond tired, as if every word is an effort. Curiosity rising in him, Sadiq nudges the grey fur ball out of his way and steps towards the grey door. The first thing he notices is the quickening in his chest, how his pulse accelerates with every step he takes, each erratic beat misplaced and confusing. It is almost as if something else is controlling him. The thought passes and Sadiq rolls his eyes, squares his shoulders and forces himself to say, "Hey, you Heracles?"

"I am." The door opens further and a man stumbles inside, the majority of him obstructed by the grey boxes in his arms. He carries them like they're a lot heavier than they ought to be.

Sadiq leers at the two unexpected additional cats trailing behind him, stepping all over his personal space, though he supposes it's not all that personal anymore. Still, he smirks in spite of himself. The first roommate he's ever had and he's a crazy cat lady. "I thought you said you had a pet."

"Oh. Perhaps I misspoke. There are three."

It takes a year for this guy to finish his sentences and Sadiq wants to explode. But, to his utter disdain and confusion, his pulse is still quick, his skin is still warm, and he hasn't a clue why. It feels almost...anticipatory. Like waiting on a knife's edge. Sadiq brushes it off, leans against the counter and says, "Whatever. Just keep them out of my stuff."

Heracles drops the load of boxes with a huff. "Fine. I will." Like everything else he does, it takes him far too long to stand upright, stretch, and turn to face Sadiq. His gaze flits upwards just as lethargically.

Their eyes lock, and it hits like a flood.

Green. Blinding green, just like it was always described to him in words and nothing else, floods Sadiq's vision and sends his world tumbling into a mad spiral. Then there is no grey. Only color, color so vibrant it's suffocating, color Sadiq has never seen and never thought he would. He stares, breathless, and clutches the counter he now knows is brown. He looks down at the orange cat, up at the yellow walls, and finally returns his eyes to Heracles's. Green.

Then, he cannot help it. Sadiq laughs. He laughs because today, of all days, he has found his fate in this man, of all men. The crazy cat lady is his soulmate. Heracles only stares, and Sadiq finally says, "Can you believe this shit?"

Heracles blinks. "I am sorry?"

"This is fucking incredible!" Sadiq twists around, and he just falls into it, drinks it in. His shirt is red; the grey sky is tinged in blue. His mind is white, explosive light that fills him, takes him over, and suddenly nothing else matters but this. His destiny. His happiness. It's finally here, no matter how strange or unexpected. Maybe he can even learn to love the cats. Sadiq is floating too high to even care that Heracles looks bewildered. "Aren't you seeing this?"

"I'm not sure I understand." Heracles glances to either side, green eyes narrowed, searching. "What am I meant to see?"

Sadiq's mind is muddled with unfamiliar shades and hues. He does not think, does not even bother to doubt. Instead he looks out the window, still almost laughing, and points to something across the street- a yellow umbrella. Another new color. "Look!"

"It is..." Heracles breaks off, shrugs. "Grey."

Sadiq lets his hand fall. His hysterical euphoria abruptly ends, breaks, and falls the pieces around him just as quickly as all of this started. He has heard of this happening before. But not to him. Not to him... "Oh," is all he can say. For what is possibly the first time in his life, Sadiq has no words. He has only color and confusion. He does not know Heracles, does not know what led either of them to this, and above all he does not know exactly what to feel. Red overtakes his vision, flooding out uncertainty, and he hardens his gaze and jerks his hand in the air. "Whatever. Just get your shit off the floor."

But Heracles does not drop it. He stares at Sadiq, green eyes burning, scalding Sadiq's skin. He even breaks the needed silence. "What did you want me to see? Now I am curious."

Sadiq looks away, pretending to be mesmerized by the grey, rainy sky. He needs the grey. "Nothing." He blinks, partially hoping the color he just seconds ago thought to be beautiful would simply disappear. The yellow umbrella soon wanders from sight. Everything else remains. "The rain picked up. That's it. Go control your rodents."

Heracles glares at that. Warm brown hair falls in haunting green eyes, flies over his shoulders as he turns on his heel. Sadiq watches out of the corner of his eye as he collects his cats- one orange, one brown, one white. His gaze refuses to move from him. His blue shirt twists around his body as he struggles to lift the brown boxes; his cheeks are flushed pink with anger. For a moment Sadiq is almost relieved. Heracles is already annoyed with him. The feeling is nearly mutual. And that is what Sadiq needs, because he knows how this will end, and once, just once, he wants to save himself from a fate he already knows to be inevitable.

Sadiq wipes his eyes as he walks to his room, hands shaking, pulse racing, colors blurring.

.

The silence is white.

For weeks, Sadiq watches Heracles while telling himself he isn't. And he notices things, small things, things that get under his skin and burn him, red like flames and blue like ice. He notices his endless supply of white t-shirts. He notices his monotone voice as he speaks to his cats as if they're people, filling the apartment like white fog and casting grey shadows over Sadiq's too bright, too colorful thoughts. He notices how Heracles looks at him- expressionless, empty, those green eyes catching nothing but shades of grey. He tries not to think about it. Of course he does not tell him.

But above anything, Sadiq notices how much he sleeps. Heracles is always asleep, perhaps more often than he is awake, whether it is in his room, on the couch, or on one occasion, in the middle of the floor, with all three cats on his chest.

Sadiq catches himself staring sometimes, when Heracles is glowing under the yellow sun or the white moon, when he is something Sadiq has never seen. He embodies peace like Sadiq has never known. But his pace should be infuriating. Sadiq knows it should disgust him, drive him mad with impatience, but for whatever reason, seeing Heracles sleep slows his pulse and quiets his mind. He is almost...calm, for once in his life. He isn't used to it, any of it, which makes it impossible not to look. But he always rips his eyes away, always forces a scoff, and sometimes, when he simply cannot take it, kicks Heracles awake.

When Sadiq walks in to see Heracles lying on the sofa, twisted in a blanket with the white cat- Aristotle, he thinks- curled up by this legs, he almost believes it to be one of those times. But as he approaches, Sadiq realizes Heracles is not asleep at all. He is awake but barely, green eyes glossed over, his face without an expression. His skin is too white. Sadiq has to speak. "What's up with you?"

Heracles looks to him, and just like always, his gaze goes flat. Just like always, Sadiq pretends not to notice. "I got...dizzy." His words are filled with air, his limbs dangling. "So I decided to lie down. I was almost asleep before you came in."

The words are accusatory, like they had been many times in the past weeks. Sadiq cannot even decide if his tone is intentional. It seems that it isn't, just like Sadiq does not intend to get himself in Heracles's way, though he almost always finds himself there. His traitorous eyes fall to him again, and Sadiq finds himself transfixed with how his chest rises and falls too rapidly under twisting layers of white, how the color of his skin nearly blends into it. Again, Sadiq feels something he is not comfortable with and again he looks away. "Sleep, then."

"No, it's fine." Heracles sits up as if his limbs are weighted and yawns. "I have to feed the cats."

Sadiq pretends not to notice how long it takes Heracles to stand. He pretends not to hear him breathe- nothing more than a lethargic sigh, shallow and unnatural, like the color of his face. Sadiq tells himself he does not care, that Heracles and his incessant laziness does nothing but annoy him, that he barely notices it in the first place... but the sudden, heavy weight falling against his chest demands to be noticed and cared about. "Shit!" he exclaims, mostly out of surprise, but something akin to fear lays behind it.

Heracles is heavy against him, but at the same time, he is weightless, boneless. His too-white hands are like wind on Sadiq's back. Sadiq stands, motionless, and for a moment of insanity believes Heracles to be embracing him. That he had seen something. Finally. "Herc?" No response. Hope turns to something different entirely when Sadiq realizes Heracles is suddenly incapable of one, that his green eyes are closed against his chest and his knees are unsupportive and useless below him. Fire erupts in Sadiq's gut, all instinct, red and burning like nothing he has ever felt. "Heracles!"

A flutter of movement brings a tidal wave of unfounded relief. "Oh." The word melts against Sadiq's chest, burns into it, chills him to the bone. Heracles stutters back into awareness like a slow starting car. But when he becomes aware of himself he is suddenly fast, pushing off Sadiq in a frantic jerk and narrowing his red-rimmed eyes. Sadiq notices the dark shadows painted under them, how they set off the green and age his face. He wonders if those had always been there. "That was strange."

"What the hell happened?" Sadiq has to know.

But Heracles is reluctant to tell. "I...don't know. Everything was black for a moment." He shrugs as if to dismiss it, but even that looks pained. "It doesn't matter. Thank you for catching me." The last sentence is so quiet Sadiq is not sure if he was meant to hear it. Then Heracles turns away, his steps like walking in wet sand.

Sadiq still does not know Heracles. He does not know why he calms him down as quickly as he riles him up. He does not understand why his fate supposedly rests with a lazy, stoic cat fanatic who looks at him like a leper. But it does. This time, Sadiq does not try to look away. He does not pretend he isn't looking. Instead he crosses his arms, wondering why Heracles felt so right in his embrace, wondering why it hurts so much to have him gone.

.

The coldest is blue.

Heracles reads nearly as much as he sleeps. It seems almost uncharacteristic; how he can go from lying around at all hours of the day, lifeless and seemingly eternally so, to flipping through pages with eyes alight with life. Sadiq never asks what he's reading. It's entirely too personal, too colorful and too barrier-breaking a question for what he should logically allow himself. But Sadiq was never good at concealing his curiosity. He is even worse at ignoring what was supposedly his fate.

This time the book has a blue cover, and Heracles does not seem enthused. This time his green eyes are dark, narrowed in deep concentration, looking almost conflicted by the words laid out in front of him. This time Sadiq cannot help but ask. "Hey, what are you reading?"

Heracles lifts his eyes from the page. He does not scowl this time, but it looks as though he simply does not hold the energy to. Instead he looks part confused, part frustrated, and part... sad. "Symposium," he says as if the word holds weight. "By Plato."

Both names are only vaguely familiar to Sadiq. But judging by the look on his face, they are more than familiar to Heracles. To him they must mean the world. "Yeah?" Sadiq hesitates before sliding into the chair across from him. He drapes his arm over the back- trying to look disinterested, still trying to pretend he is. "Is that more of your pretentious philosophy nonsense?"

Heracles manages a glare, finally. Sadiq is not surprised. Really, he sees the content of Heracles's books as neither pretentious nor as nonsense. In the hours he is alone in the apartment, when he thumbs through the books under the blame of curiosity, he finds them complex- maybe too complex for him, if he is going to be completely honest with himself. But Sadiq hardly ever is, especially in these past weeks.

Heracles breaks the silence before Sadiq can even admit that to himself. "It is not nonsense, but yes. That is what it is. Philosophy." Silence falls, and Heracles looks back down at the page. He does so as slowly as possible, as carefully as possible, almost as if he is afraid the ink and paper will harm him. When he speaks, the feeling is the same. "Are you familiar with Plato's theory of soulmates?"

Soulmates. The word is blue, cold, and it freezes Sadiq's blood. It is worse than any curse, any insult. But he fights to conceal it behind a jaded expression, and fortunately he wins the battle- even though the rest of the war is still splayed out in front of him. "Never heard of it." Sadiq does not want to be interested; he cannot afford to be. The words flow through him without his permission. "What is it?"

Heracles closes the book and sets it down. He coughs roughly into his hand before resting it on the countertop, fingers drumming, eyes hard and finally meeting Sadiq's own. Sadiq glances down at Heracles's pale hand and develops a strange urge to take it, but he only grips his knees and listens. "According to the legend, all humans once had two heads, four arms and legs, and were very happy." Heracles pauses, and Sadiq attempts to wrap his head around the bizarre, ludicrous image. He nearly laughs, but he does not have the time.

"One day they conspired to climb Mount Olympus... Zeus did not like that. He ordered for them to be cut in two, and now, humans spend their entire lives searching for their other half...their soulmate." Heracles's voice gets quieter by the word, eventually trailing into silence. He shrugs before whispering a quiet, nearly inaudible sentence that Sadiq just barely catches. "We search for color our entire lives..."

Amusement dips into something dark and hopeless before Sadiq can stop it. Heracles suddenly looks even more tired, and above all, much, much older. The circles under his eyes even appear more apparent. So he does think about this. Heracles must think about it just like he did- but Sadiq's thoughts were always fleeting and quickly dismissed, and just recently, they gave way to something worlds harder to ignore when he least expected or even wanted it. But Heracles is different. He wants it more than anything, and Sadiq can see it in his eyes. He can see it just as easily as he can see that Heracles looks at him flatly, that he truly is oblivious, that he has no idea Sadiq's world looks the way it does. Perhaps that is because Heracles is too caught up in wishing his looked the same.

The silence lasts far too long. Sadiq breaks it. "I don't think I have ever heard that one." He scrambles for something, anything else to say, anything that will not give away the spectrum in front of his eyes, the race in his pulse and the heaviness in his chest. But when he looks at Heracles's crestfallen expression, the entirety of him radiating a cold, hopeless blue, he can only find one thing. "You haven't met yours, have you?" Sadiq already knows the answer. He wishes he didn't.

"No." Heracles shrugs again. He shrugs entirely too much, as if to deny that anything in this world affects him. This time it seems different. This time he sighs, shakes his head and slumps his shoulders, like the air around him is pushing down on them. "No, I have not." He looks straight at Sadiq as he says it, completely unaware how the words burn and slice with a cruel irony. His next words only worsen the wound. "I'm guessing you haven't?"

Sadiq is not unaccustomed to lying. He has certainly done it enough in his life, it had never really bothered him either, but this lie feels like acid on his lips. He lets it pass anyway. "No, not yet. I still only see the grey," he says as he looks away from Heracles's green eyes, picks at the fabric of his red sleeve, and stares out into the blue sky.

"At least I'm not the only one, then." Heracles does not even seem to be speaking to Sadiq anymore. His eyes are focused on some far off place, glazed over, his words soft and sounding as if they are meant for nothing but the air. He speaks without direction, more swiftly than he ever has, as if this has been concealed for far too long. "I'm nearly twenty-seven. I know I am not old, but... twenty-seven years is a long time to now know color. If it hasn't happened yet, how can I be sure it ever will?"

At that, Sadiq is not sure if he wants to laugh or cry. He is over thirty, and just weeks ago did he meet his green-eyed Greek that is actually far from being his. It took forever to meet his match and even then everything about it is broken. But he cannot laugh, because Heracles is still speaking though the words are no longer distinguishable; because he looks so sad and hopeless and lost, yet he speaks each word with such subtle, quiet passion. Because he brought this breathtaking color into Sadiq's life whether he realizes it or not. Because so much goes on in his mind, yet it all hides behind a stoic, tired exterior that manages to be the calm to Sadiq's boundless energy and misplaced explosions, because his hand looks like it would fit perfectly with his and his hair looks so soft and Sadiq cannot tear his gaze from his lips...

Impulse is all that's left in Sadiq's head, and he is suddenly tired of being cold, tired of wondering and hoping. He jumps from his seat, and the space between them shatters to pieces. He has to know what this feels like once, just once. Heracles's disheartened words break into silence as Sadiq lifts Heracles's chin, covers hiss lips with his own, and his mind erupts in color even more brilliant than it was just seconds ago. Like the last puzzle piece clicking into place, everything that Sadiq was once doubtful about becomes shockingly clear. This feels right; this feels like destiny, right down to the smell of Heracles's skin and the way his hair feels between his fingers. For a split second, Sadiq feels hands on his chest that nearly soothe the ache within it and he almost believes Heracles to be responding. Maybe he saw something, maybe he felt something, maybe...

But the hard, forceful shove does not feel like fate or destiny. Sadiq takes a stumbling step backwards, eyes opening again, his cold, blue reality hitting him again. He sees that Heracles is flushed, but it looks to be nothing out of fluster or affection. Instead he looks flushed with something akin to faint anger, his lips parted in confusion after the intrusion placed on them. "What was that for?" Again, Heracles barely sounds affected, though there are questions in his eyes and knifes in his voice.

Sadiq knows then, more than ever, that Heracles truly sees nothing but grey. That had been a strange, unpleasant surprise for him, while Sadiq is still fighting to blink away the kaleidoscope of color spinning in his vision. Sadiq does not even know what he had expected. It wasn't this, but at the same time it was. He could do a lot of things right now, but all he does is straighten his posture and force his eyes into a glare. The blue-covered book mocks him from its place in the counter. "I wanted to shut you up." He ignores the voice in his head that tells him he could have listened to Heracles speak forever.

"What?"

"It was nothing. I just didn't want to hear it." Sadiq turns on his heel to hide his burning face. His eyes burn just as fiercely when he realizes what that really had been- a final, desperate attempt to piece this broken reality together. And it had failed. His everything had failed, split into fragmented, obnoxiously colorful pieces and cut him open. Unfamiliar despair turns to familiar rage, and he spits ice over his shoulder before he drifts back into solidarity. "That story was ridiculous. What a childish thing to believe."

Sadiq has no choice but to believe that story is ridiculous. It is ridiculous because it is too simple and sweet for what stares him in the face everyday, and it is one of the mounting things in his life that he cannot even begin to understand. He does not understand how something can be so simple and pure for everyone else but so complex and tainted for him. He does not understand how two halves do not fit into a whole, how someone can supposedly be meant for him though he is somehow not meant for them, how two people be bound to each other when only one end of the red string is intact. He does not understand how the color that makes the world beautiful can make it so ugly at the same time.

He does not understand, because everything about it is paradoxical and cruel and ridiculous, because this tightening in his chest and the tears in his eyes make no sense to him, because all of it is too strong and too close for comfort and he hates it. He hates it like he hates how he can still feel Heracles on his lips like a tattoo and how it feels like something that is meant to be there, how his smooth, slow voice is still ringing in his ears, and how his stretches of lazy silence and short bursts of world-altering wisdom affect him equally.

He hates it, he loves it, he does not even know, but mostly he just doesn't understand. Sadiq is cold, he is confused, and nothing makes sense anymore. His world may be in color now, but his life is nothing more but a grey area.

.

The warmest is pink.

Sadiq is not entirely sure why he went looking for him. After all, he and Heracles have hardly been looking at each other, much less speaking, since that disastrous afternoon ignited by that fool Plato. But Heracles hasn't been around all day, and he is confused. Sadiq hasn't the gall to admit he could be worried. But when he finally does find Heracles in the very place he expected him to be, wrapped uncomfortably in a tangle of bed sheets and breathing like it hurt, Sadiq cannot deny it any longer.

Usually, there is only peace when Heracles is sleeping. This time is different. The first thing he notices are the color of his cheeks- pink, and worryingly so. Every inch of exposed skin holds the same shade. Sadiq only stares, long enough to notice Heracles's white shirt looks bigger on him and sweat is beading on his collar. Now, Heracles does not look sleepy in that disgustingly cute way Sadiq loves and despises at the same time. Now he looks exhausted, almost in pain, sick. Sadiq feels a bit ill himself.

Without giving himself time to think about it too much, Sadiq walks forward until he is standing above Heracles, looking down at his sleeping, shaky form. Sadiq's hand lifts though he hasn't given it permission to, and he reaches forward to press it against Heracles's glossy forehead. He is warm and cold at the same, his skin pink and aflame but the sweat rising on his temples ice cold. He flinches under the touch but thankfully he does not wake, barely even stirs. Sadiq allows his hand to linger for too long of a moment before drawing it back.

Then Sadiq is not sure what to do. He wants to walk away and forget, but there is a faint, persistent ache in this gut that demands he do something. He cannot walk away the same way he cannot stop seeing color, cannot clear his mind and cannot cool the burn in his blood. But Sadiq does walk away- just long enough to wet a cloth, fill a glass, and leave his pride by the doorway.

Sadiq moves swiftly, acts haphazardly, and detaches himself from it all. No time passes, and then there is ice water on the nightstand and a cool cloth turning warm on burning skin. Heracles still does not move, not at the clink of glass against wood or even damp rag above his brow. He looks as though he can't. Sadiq is able to breathe when the thought passes, because Heracles cannot know about this, and Sadiq does not have the explanation he would inevitably ask for. With any luck Heracles will believe he did this all himself, somewhere in the midst of his warm, pink-flushed confusion. Sadiq can only count on the very delirium that scares him.

But it still is not enough and this ridiculous sense of obligation makes Sadiq want to scream. He has never had to care for anyone before, no one but himself, and he even then he usually failed. This drive had never existed within him before, and now he cannot rid himself of it. So Sadiq groans though he does it quietly, and he lets his eyes travel the room.

There are few things Heracles loves. He does not love wet rags, nor chilled water, and he certainly does not love Sadiq. Sadiq tries to forget. Instead he thinks how Heracles loves his books, his sleep, and more than anything, his cats- one of which is currently stationed in the corner of the room, looking straight at Sadiq almost as if to challenge him. Then he knows what to do.

It's almost cruelly appropriate, how Heracles's cats like Sadiq about as much as he does. He manages to take only one step forward before it scampers in the other direction in a flash of orange, as if Sadiq is to blame for the fever beneath Heracles's skin. Maybe he is. It would certainly explain a few things. He rolls his eyes against the thought, quickens his steps, and can only be grateful Heracles is in no position to see or understand any of it.

Sadiq is nearly breathless by the time he has the cat- he believes his name is Socrates, a name just ludicrous enough for Heracles to pick- by the scuff of its neck. It thrashes against his hold, claws barred and eyes like a storm, but Sadiq supposes it does not matter. He is not even surprised. He sets Socrates down on the tangled sheets and it calms immediately, going from a hiss to a purr almost as if a switch had been flipped. Heracles shifts his arm in his sleep and the cat settles under it, nuzzling against his too-big shirt and pawing at his side. Then Heracles smiles, faintly and unconsciously, and Sadiq is sure of only two things- he did something right and he has never been more jealous of a cat in his life.

The process is repeated twice, and by the end Sadiq cannot believe he subjected himself to this. His face is just as pink as Heracles's now, scalding with embarrassment over what no one had even seen. There are scratches on his arms and no air in his lungs and their apartment has seen a tornado, but he lifts his gaze and knows he has reached the eye of the storm. The cats have already fallen asleep, their struggle forgotten, all of them touching Heracles in some way or another. Sadiq finds it safe to smile then.

Thoroughly exhausted, humiliated, but strangely accomplished, Sadiq sighs into the silent room and leans against the far wall, just close enough to the bed that he can see Heracles is still breathing and close enough to the door that he can bolt if he shows signs of waking. Then Sadiq realizes he is warm. A slow, building heat rises in his chest, not uncomfortable like a fever or painful like a burn... he is not entirely certain what it is, really. But it has sometime to do with being near Heracles, seeing him smile and knowing he did something to cause it.

Warmth turns to ice when Sadiq glances out the window. He cannot be sure, but... he could have sworn the leaves on that tree were brighter a day ago.

.

The worst is brown.

Another week drags by, and by the end of it Heracles is at least well enough to leave his bed. Sadiq pretends not to notice. He pretends his body does not flood with relief, pretends he doesn't know Heracles still looks too pale, and pretends he hasn't been looking after him this whole time. Heracles says nothing about it. He must not have noticed, and for that Sadiq has one less thing to worry about.

Heracles has been out all day. He had left that morning, mumbling under his breath about losing track of one of those damned cats. Sadiq finds some kind of calm in the solitude. It reminds him of when he lived alone, when the world made sense, when grey was all he could see and things were just simple enough to be comfortable. It lasts only into late afternoon, when the door flies open and Sadiq is broken from his thoughts. He straightens up, shakes his head as if to clear it, and brings a neutral expression to his face. It seems he cannot get rid of one stressor without it being replaced with twenty.

"Sadiq!" Heracles shouts his name from the doorway, and Sadiq is shocked both by the exclaim in his voice and the volume of it. Both are uncommon and strangely exciting. "Sadiq, you will not believe what happened."

Sadiq is sure he won't, because anything that would cause Heracles to speak to him so brightly and willingly must be either apocalyptic or a product of insanity. Curiosity rising in him, he makes his way to the door and stands before it. Heracles is breathless. He is flushed but this time it's out of something other than a fever, his eyes are wide and his mouth is stretched into an incredulous smile. Sadiq raises an eyebrow. "What's got you so riled up?"

Heracles says only one thing. "Your eyes are green."

Four words are enough to shatter everything. Sadiq's stomach tightens, his breath stops, and he forgets how thinking works. He goes numb, goes frozen, and fights the urge to believe and to hope only to fail. Heracles sees green. He is seeing color, he is seeing Sadiq's color, and he looks so excited and happy and maybe this is some kind of bizarre delayed reaction and things are finally snapping perfectly into place... "So, does this mean-"

Heracles does not even hear him. "It happened while I was searching for Plato." His wild joy fades into a slight grin and softened eyes, and Sadiq stares, confused. He watches with a blank mind as Heracles brings his hand forward. It's only then that he realizes Heracles isn't alone, and he's holding onto someone. Someone who isn't him. "He found my cat, and when I went to pick him up it just...happened. I can't believe it, I... Oh, His name is Kiku."

Sadiq lowers his eyes just a few inches; a moment that feels like a year. Then he sees, he understands, but at the same time he refuses. Startled brown eyes are staring up at him, peaking out through strands of black hair and resting above red cheeks. He's holding a brown cat, and it isn't thrashing against his hold. All of it is color that Heracles now sees, that he is meant to see. Sadiq takes a step back. He swallows too hard, blinks too heavily, and forces the deadpan look on his face to remain even as the entire earth falls from beneath his feet. "Oh. So this guys is..." He cannot say the word. He cannot let reality sit on his lips.

Yet Heracles says it so easily. "Yes, my soulmate." He tightens his grip on Kiku's hand and gazes down at him, his eyes bright and focused as if Kiku is a spark of light when everything else it dark. Heracles looks at Kiku like Sadiq secretly wishes he would look at him, how Sadiq looks at Heracles, when his back is turned and Sadiq can be sure he will not notice. Now he never will.

Finally, Kiku speaks. "Hello." His voice is quiet, and he follows it with a quick, neat little bow.

Sadiq bites his lip. This just became very real. "Hey, kid." He takes another step back and looks away. The air is tar, the light is burning, and every color he sees is suddenly making him sick. The silence grows uncomfortable, but for the millionth time in just a couple months Sadiq is at a complete loss for words. What's left to say?

"Kiku, would you like to meet the other cats?" Heracles's voice is soft, Kiku's eyes are bewildered, and Sadiq refuses to see or hear. "I think they will love you." Sadiq looks to the cat in Kiku's arms and meets its gaze. It hisses at him and him alone.

Sadiq can no longer breathe here. He cannot stand this, because Kiku is a living, breathing person, one who is standing in front of him and looking at him with blank brown eyes he should not know the color of but does anyway. Everything he fears is standing before him. Sadiq turns to leave, but something erupts in him and his thoughts refuse to remain in his head. "The poor kid looks terrified, Herc."

Kiku stays silent, lips parted as if to speak but no sound escaping from them. Heracles glances between the two of them, but the moment he looks to Sadiq his green eyes harden and his smile twists into something closer to a grimace. Sadiq is beyond used to that look but it still stings every time. "What do you mean?"

The look stings, but Sadiq hopes he is at least able to match it. "This kind of thing isn't always returned, you know." Speaking feels like confessing. Sadiq pours himself into his words, words that beg Heracles to understand all he could never tell him, though he tries and hopefully succeeds in sounding flippant and amused. "Did you even ask him if he sees it too? God, does he even know what color your eyes are?"

"Green," says Kiku dutifully. He almost smiles at Heracles then, but his shoulders tense and he flits his wide-eyed gaze back to Sadiq, then to the floor. "I apologize if I seem less than enthusiastic. I am just very shocked. But I do see the color, and it is..." Kiku pauses to look out the window, where a flurry of orange and brown leaves fall from a tree. "Beautiful."

"Isn't it?" Heracles runs his thumb over Kiku's knuckles, and Kiku blushes even further at the touch but makes no real attempt to pull away. When Heracles looks at Sadiq again, there is no understanding in his eyes, none of the excitement they held just moments ago. He may be seeing color now, but he still looked at Sadiq as if he is grey. Heracles must still be oblivious. For how smart he can be, it is almost surprising. "Why would you say that, Sadiq? I have never heard of this not being mutual."

Sadiq swallows the truth. "It happened to...a guy I know."

Heracles shrugs. "Huh." He almost turns away, almost walks off with who is supposedly his future, but he glances back at Sadiq with what almost looks to be uncertainty. "Besides, how would you know what color my eyes are? You have told me you only see the grey."

Yes, Heracles is definitely still oblivious- cruelly, unapologetically, faultlessly oblivious. How could he not be? The color is always mutual, ninety-nine percent of the time. Sadiq is not about to admit to that one percent. "It was hypothetical." Red-hot, infuriating frustration trumps despair, and his voice borders on a shout. "Of course I don't know the damn color, Heracles. How ridiculous would that be?"

Before Heracles can respond- or, even worse, figure it out- Sadiq leaves him and Kiku alone. He cannot stand to see those brown eyes a second longer. His stomach drops at that... he did not think anything could hurt him more than the green.

Over the weeks, Sadiq grows accustomed to Kiku's presence in their apartment. Sadiq keeps his distance, but he cannot be blind to all of it. The space is too small for that; Kiku is there nearly as much as the cats, and Heracles seems to treat him about the same- with a gentle touch, warm eyes, and words just simple and honest enough to be sweet. It's a side of him Sadiq has never seen, and he is torn between wishing he never had seen it and clinging to the impossible fantasy that it could be for him one day. But of course that cannot be true, because Kiku does not take long to start returning it.

Though Sadiq tries with all he has not to notice, he cannot hide from reality forever. It does not take him long to see that this man is the opposite of him. He sees that Kiku and Heracles can have conversations about philosophy and myths and history with ease, just as easily as they sit in what looks to be comfortable silence. Sadiq was never good with reason or quiet. He sees how the cats react to him, without scratching or hissing, always purring. Sadiq still has scratches on his arms. More than anything, he sees how Heracles looks at him- amorous, almost unbelieving, like Kiku is water in a desert. Sadiq is used to glares.

Sadiq understands though he does not want to, sees when he would rather be blind, and finally something makes sense in this muck of confusion. Kiku is quiet wisdom, he is kindness and simplicity, and he as different from Sadiq as the night is from the day. If there was any hope of this falling into place, working like it's supposed to, it's gone by the time Sadiq sees Heracles kissing Kiku goodbye.

But the earth continues to turn, and by the autumn, all of this is familiar. Sadiq continues to live, continues to laugh and smile just as well as he continues to ignore and repress, because he can only worry so much. He has never worried much in his life and now that is all he does, because all the secrets he now holds press directly on his nerves and leave no room for anything else. Just like seeing Heracles and Kiku together, it rests in his gut as a persistent, bruise-like ache he can almost ignore. Almost.

As he stands in the kitchen one cold afternoon, trying for the millionth time to forget, he distracts himself with the yellow walls. He stares until his vision is blurred. Perhaps they need to be painted again; perhaps it's the lighting, but he swears the color has faded. But maybe it's only a product of insanity.

"Sadiq."

Maybe the change in color is a figment of his imagination, but the familiar sound of his name spoken in a barely-familiar voice is not. Sadiq turns. Kiku is standing before him, hands folded neatly in front of him, brown eyes flat and Heracles nowhere in sight. "Oh. Hey." Sadiq feels his collar flush as Kiku's gaze burns into him. Something about this feels strange, too strange, and he can only say the first thing that comes to mind no matter how bizarre it sounds. "Where's Heracles?"

"Sleeping, I believe. I am just about to leave." Kiku shifts in his stance; Sadiq is able to breathe again when their eyes are no longer locked. But of course, he can never hold onto his breath for long. "I wanted to speak to you for a moment."

Sadiq fights to stay smiling and look unconcerned. He wonders what Kiku could have to say, what he would even want to say it, what interest he would have in Sadiq. Kiku has already won, is that not enough? Still, Sadiq says, "Okay."

At that, Kiku falls silent. He looks at his feet, seemingly transfixed by the floor tiles, as if his words are written somewhere on them. The air between them grows thick with tension. After a moment that feels like three lifetimes, Kiku swallows thickly and looks up as if his head is heavy. He speaks as though he has forgotten how. "You see it, don't you?"

Sadiq wishes he did not understand, but he does. The unreal words sink in and his grin falls, his heart pounds, and his hand instinctively grips the edge of the counter behind him. He knows. Sadiq has no idea how, no idea why, but the truth is far from obscured. Just when he thought the world could not get anymore cruel… he can only revert to speaking the way he has grown accustomed to. Dishonestly. "What are you talking about, kid?"

Kiku's flat expression does not falter. "The color," he says as if Sadiq had not lied so obviously. "I apologize. I simply… had a feeling." He blinks, lifts his gaze, and speaks without assumption though his eyes are knowing. "Am I wrong?"

Sadiq knows he could very well lie again. There is nothing stopping him, no real consequence in sight, and the words rest so easily on his tongue: Yes. You're wrong.

But Sadiq is tired of lying. "No, you're not wrong."

"I see." Kiku nods only once, not a trace of shock on his face. He must have been expecting this…somehow. "Because of Heracles?"

Sadiq nearly balks, because Kiku does not even sound angry. In fact he never looks anything but calm, at least from what Sadiq has observed, even though what he's suggesting should be maddening to him. Sadiq certainly would be if their positions were switched. But he is just as tired of anger as he is of lying, of speaking, of living, so he shakes his head with a resigned sigh and waits for the aftershock. His heart is almost too tired to continue hammering against his ribs. He wonders why he is not panicked, why everything feels still and calm. Perhaps this was a long time coming.

"I see," Kiku says again. He does not look irritated, or angry, or jealous. He does not even have the decency to look just slightly surprised. If anything, the dip in his shoulders makes him look…sad. It's almost as if he has resigned to something. "I have heard of this happening before. I'm sorry."

Sadiq is already tired of this strange conversation. It makes him think too much, feel too much, and a small part of him feels strangely mocked. The last thing he wants is an apology. So he ignores it. "How did you know?"

"Little things. The way you look at him, mostly." He recites the fact like one out of a textbook, as if Sadiq's entire world does not spin back on the words. "It is not that I am upset. I have no intentions of telling him, either, but I really need to ask…" Kiku lets his line of sight drift to the window behind Sadiq, and for a moment his blank expression pinches. He takes a long, almost reluctant breath. "Are yours getting lighter, too?"

Sadiq instantly feels a lot less insane and a lot more dizzy. The too-light walls, Heracles's too-pale face and the too-dull leaves outside suddenly make sense, but at the same time they make none at all. He has never heard of such a thing, he has no idea what would cause it, and he is not sure if he wants to know. "I mean, they could be." Then he wishes he could take it all back- everything, right from the day he put in an ad for a roommate to this very second. He regrets every moment, every color, every thought and every emotion. Sadiq does not want to know why his colors are fading. He does not want to know why he started seeing them in the first place. "I don't know. I have to get going."

Kiku begins a messy, apology-laced response, but Sadiq does not hear it. He barely hears himself say, "Just don't tell him," barely feels this legs walk away, barely manages to ignore Heracles sleeping when he passes his room. He does his best not to look at him. If anything else has changed, Sadiq does not want to know that either.

.

The truth is purple.

It happens like a blue day fading into a violet evening- slowly, but strikingly apparent.

Of course it does not happen quite as gracefully, but as the leaves turned brown and the sky turned grey, Sadiq sees Heracles change almost as drastically as the weather. He notices he's been sleeping more- something Sadiq hardly thought to be possible. He notices how the color fades from his face most days, leaving only the ever-persistent flush in its place. Even the green of his eyes appears lighter. Kiku's words become more of a reality with each passing day, and Sadiq tries to blame it on the lighting, blame it on his eyes, blame on anything that makes sense of things rather than leave everything a mystery.

A dead leaf falls from the near-barren tree outside; Sadiq tries to nudge away the cat batting at his foot. He does not put much effort into it, however, because this is the white cat and the white cat does not hiss at him. Sadiq likes this one the best… but perhaps that is simply because white does not change. For what feels like forever, he sits alone, his mind blank, staring at the one thing in the room without color.

"Morning."

The familiar voice causes a familiar drop in his stomach. Sadiq blinks away his haze, pushes aside the fact that it is nearly two in the afternoon, and looks up. Color returns. Heracles drifts through the living room, nearly stumbling in his fatigue, eyes too heavy-lidded and pants hanging a bit too loosely on his hips. He is not wearing a shirt. Sadiq is used to this as well, because Heracles has a strange tendency to simply forget his clothes, and the man is nothing if not without shame. Sadiq cannot honestly say that upsets him too much. Finally, he finds his voice. "Morning, sleeping beauty."

Heracles rolls his eyes and turns, stooping down to collect the brown cat staring up at him. Sadiq allows himself to continue looking, his eyes acting on their own accord, and a new color all but smacks him in the face. Purple, dark like plums and splattered like paint, is splotched on Heracles's back like watercolor. Bruises. Sadiq blinks, almost hoping they will disappear. His muscles tighten when he realizes he is not imagining this. "Heracles."

Heracles stands up straight, the cat cradled in his arms. "Yes?"

"Your back." Sadiq motions dramatically with his hands, almost as dramatically as his thoughts go haywire. "Did you get your ass beat or something?" He hopes that isn't true. Some part of him believes none of this is true, that he will eventually wake up in a vacant apartment to find everything is grey and simple again. But right now all he can see and think about is purple.

"Oh, that." For what is probably the first time since Sadiq has known him, Heracles makes what looks to be an attempt at covering himself. He turns his back the other way, presses his cat to his chest, and of course he shrugs. "It's nothing."

Sadiq stands then, because he can pretend a lot of things are nothing but something is not allowing this to be one of them. "How did that happen?"

Heracles hesitates. He does not break Sadiq's gaze but his eyes are vacant, too light, unseeing. He shrugs again and Sadiq bites back a scream of frustration, suppresses the urge to run up and grab his shoulders just so Heracles will stop dismissing everything. "I woke up with them yesterday. I do not know where they came from, but… it's probably nothing."

Sadiq hears the words, words he wishes he could believe, but they hit his ears like a foreign language. The lies are suddenly senseless; the truth is suddenly all that he can understand. It cannot be nothing- not the bruises, not the endless fatigue, not the sunken eyes or fading color. He still does not know what it means, but it has to mean something. "You should see a doctor or something."

Infuriatingly, Heracles shakes his head. "That would be silly. I am fine." His voice, like his stance, is unsteady. Then he blinks and draws his eyebrows together, confused, oblivious. "Why would you be concerned, anyway?"

Sadiq ignores the ridiculous, unanswerable question and asks the one that matters. "Why aren't you?" Some inhibition breaks, and he finally moves. Heracles stares bewilderedly as Sadiq gets closer than he has in what feels like ages. Here, mere inches away, Sadiq is able to see more clearly than he has before- and immediately wishes he had kept his distance. Heracles's green eyes are rimmed in black; his white skin is dotted with red and spattered in purple. His shoulders aren't as broad as they were just a month before.

And suddenly, Sadiq understands.

Sadiq reaches forward with an unsure, tremulous hand, heart pounding in his ears and ringing through his mind. When he touches Heracles's bare shoulder, his skin feels both too hot and too clammy. The sickly combination burns into his fingertips. Heracles flinches but does not pull away, perhaps out of lack of energy, and Sadiq swallows hard and forces his voice to work. "You're sick." The truth passes his lips, shoots into his mind like a bullet, and becomes reality so fast and hard he can only repeat it. "You're obviously sick, Heracles."

Heracles finally pulls away, but he does not look angry, does not look confused or oblivious. For once, he looks as if he understands. But his response does not match. "I'm fine."

No, not like this. Sadiq drops his hand, searches for words that will fix this, do something, anything, but he finds nothing. His mind is useless. He can do nothing but look at Heracles, at his feigned apathy and lightened eyes and try not to let terror or truth show on his face. Not like this. Having Heracles close but out of his reach was one thing, but this…

"Kiku will be here soon." Heracles smiles faintly as he changes the subject. Maybe he has forgotten already, but Sadiq is still staring, still trying to process this unreal, horrid moment of realization. Heracles gives a short laugh and continues, the words sounding like they are meant only for himself. "He is wonderful, you know. Sometimes I can't believe I'm meant to spend the rest of my life with him."

With that he walks away, and Sadiq is left stunned. His heart is in his stomach, and Heracles's irrelevant, unintentionally ironic words ring in his ears over and over again: The rest of his life.

Kiku arrives just hours later, far before Sadiq can quiet the words in his head or acknowledge all the changes in front of his eyes. The apartment is silent. Even from his own room, Sadiq can tell Heracles and Kiku are not going on about cats or philosophy, and Heracles is not showering Kiku with sentimental compliments that make him blush. Sadiq is used to them being silent but this is different. Somehow, it has more behind it.

Sadiq emerges when the silence gets to be too loud for him. The sun has dipped below the horizon by now, bathing the room in shades of purple and orange. They should be dark, should be striking, but all Sadiq sees is a muted wash. Without thinking, he moves through the pastel silence and into the living room.

Kiku is sitting on the couch, eyes cast down, lips drawn into a tight, tired frown. Heracles has his head in his lap. Seeing him asleep usually brings Sadiq peace, but this time it brings nothing but worry, dread, and pure unfamiliar fear, all three emotions thrumming through his blood at once. Heracles's white shirt is pushed up. Kiku's hand moves across his back in a slow, gentle rhythm, as if his touch is enough to erase the deadly purple running across it. Sadiq is able to look at the bruises for only a second before he is sickened by it.

His stomach clenched in painful knots, Sadiq looks up from the splotchy mess and meets Kiku's gaze. His brown eyes are dark but not dark enough, and they are tired, and they look far, far older than he does. Neither says anything. There is nothing left to say. They both know, they both understand, but neither dares to say it aloud. The clock in the hall ticks away, sounding too loud in this deafening, horrible silence, almost like a bomb counting down to zero. In a way, it is.

.

The faintest is yellow.

Brown, dead leaves dance in the late autumn winds as Sadiq walks down the grey sidewalk. The sky above him is grey, threatening rain, and the winds are bitterly cold, threatening winter. Sadiq barely notices the chill. He is moving too quickly, too focused on getting home, because Heracles is alone and his gut is telling him nothing good can come from that. For the past three days Heracles has not even gotten out of bed.

Just a few blocks from the apartment complex, Sadiq passes a lone flower along the side of the concrete. No matter how quick his pulse is, no matter how torn his thoughts are, he cannot help but pause. The yellow petals blowing in the breeze are striking against the grey, even if it is far too faint and Sadiq can barely see it. A moment passes, an eternity passes, and he is still staring. The trace of color calms the storm within him.

But just like everything else, the calm cannot last. At first Sadiq is positive he is imagining things. He blinks and rubs his eyes, but it happens again as soon as he opens them- again, and again. Like static between channels, the yellow flickers away, dissolves before him, just long enough for his eyes to catch. Color fades in and out, and for a fleeting second the world is grey again.

Sadiq's blood turns cold as he understands.

Then, Sadiq runs.

.

The last is green, but much too pale.

Sadiq is breathless and dizzy by the time he reaches the apartment. He unlocks the brown door with unsteady hands and throws open a grey one, a messy fog overtaking his eyes and his mind as he stumbles through it. Even though there is no air in his lungs, he finds his voice and manages a single, strangled shout. "Heracles!" Now, nothing matters. Not his secrets, not his dignity, not his character. Panic claws at his throat and erases all of it. "Heracles, where are you?"

Silence. Sadiq can barely breathe through the thickness of it, can barely see through the black and white lightshow filling the room. The phone that used to be on the counter is inexplicably on the floor, dial tone screeching, as if it had been picked up, turned on and immediately dropped. He tries to scream above the noise, but no sound escapes his lips. A lifetime passes, a color disappears, and finally there is a weak, airy whisper. "Sadiq?"

Sadiq's chest seizes at how wrong his name sounds. It sounds desperate and far away and final, and for once he wishes for it to sound flat and disinteresting or even spat like a curse word. Anything would be better than this. He charges into the colorful, grey apartment, eyes wide and searching, until everything stops.

Heracles is out of bed, but he should not be. His legs tremble under his frail weight even as he leans against the wall, his knuckles white and his fingers twisted in his hair. His eyes are far away. Heracles is lost. Sadiq is lost as well, in a sea of grey and color and fear and confusion, but with Heracles he is found. Walls break down, even less matters, and Sadiq simply speaks. "What's wrong?" He wishes he knew; he wishes he didn't. The silence lasts too long and Sadiq takes too long to break it. "Come on, Herc, say something…"

"You were right." Heracles closes his eyes, allowing stray, pained tears to escape from them. The greying room spins. Heracles never cries. "I am sick." His voice is shallow and light, but the words carry the weight of the world and it falls directly on Sadiq.

Sadiq does not know what to do. He considers the car, but there is no time. He considers the abandoned phone, but his legs will not move and his voice will not work and something dark resting deep in his heart tells him none of it is any use. It is no use, because the yellow walls around him are nearly white, the tree outside is tinged in grey, and when Heracles opens his eyes they are the lightest shade of green Sadiq has ever seen. Everything, including hope and sanity, is fading.

"Sadiq." The unreal, twisted sound of his name startles Sadiq out of his panic and throws him headfirst into a new one. Heracles speaks in a series of broken breaths. None sound like he is supposed to. "Sadiq…help, I feel…" Heracles's eyes go wide. When his legs give up on him, color gives up on Sadiq.

Sadiq does not think about the flood of grey. He only dives, fast enough to stop Heracles from hitting the floor and hard enough that pain he barely feels shoot through his knees as he lands. His words are no longer words at all, rather an indistinguishable jumble of colorful language and broken syllables of Heracles's name, all twisted together in a monochromatic muck. He does not even know how to panic anymore.

A flash of green ghosts in Heracles's grey eyes as he stares up, flashing with unreal terror, white lips parted and giving way only to shallow gasps. He is clutching Sadiq's hand and Sadiq takes too long to process it, too long to feel his cool, wind-like touch against his palm. He feels only disgust with himself when his chest tightens with something close to joy at the feeling. He shakes it off, wanting to ask what's wrong though the answer is both clear and irrelevant, but in the end he can only whisper. "No…"

"Kiku." The name is chopped, slurred, and too quiet. "I want Kiku."

Of course he does. What man would not want his soulmate, his hope and future, moments before both vanish? But Kiku is not here, only Sadiq, and for a moment he feels guilty simply for being himself. Tears he cannot comprehend prick his eyes. "I'm sorry." Two words Sadiq is not used to saying are all that's left.

Words he is not used to become a mantra. It feels as if an eternity passes helplessly, and Sadiq cannot move, cannot even breathe, can say only those two words. He says them as Heracles loses his voice, loses the focus in his eyes, as he seizes, stills and goes weightless. He says them even after Heracles's breathing fades and his hand can no longer clutch anything. He says them because he is not Kiku, and he is not what Heracles needs or wants. Sadiq says them with his eyes closed, and when he opens them, color is gone, all is unmoving, and the room is silent.

A lifetime passes in silence. Sadiq waits for an apocalypse that never happens, for a spark of life that never appears. Then, instead of two words, there are three. Only now is it safe to say them. "I love you." The words feel strange of his lips, perhaps out of unfamiliarity, but Sadiq quickly realizes they are wrong. He swallows thickly and corrects himself, even if his voice wavers. "I loved you, Herc."

Sadiq was never one to cry. But when he realizes Heracles really is not going to respond, that the color really is not going to return, who he was before this do not matter anymore. He pulls Heracles closer, tears fall without feeling, and Sadiq wonders how he is still breathing. He wonders how the earth is not in flames… but he supposes it doesn't matter.

Heracles is heavy and boneless in Sadiq's tight, almost protective hold. With a shaking hand, a blank mind and an empty heart, Sadiq pushes a few limp strands of hair to the side and presses a light kiss to each of Heracles's darkened eyelids. In the back of his mind, he clings to the green that used to lie behind them. He gazes down at the cheeks that can no longer flush, lips that words of wisdom can no longer pass from, hands that can no longer push him away or flip in the air to dismiss a problem…the very problem that caused this cruel, untimely twist of fate. Maybe this is what Sadiq deserves.

But Heracles never deserved this.

Something clicks, and it hits like a flood.

Sadiq does not remember the phone call. He does not hear the sirens, or see the flashing grey lights shining in from his window, or feel the weight lifted from his lap. He does not register Kiku's hysterical presence or understand his uncharacteristically frantic words. He does not hear the scream that rips through his throat, or feel the swell of tears rising in his eyes, or even notice when he falls heavily, helplessly to the grey floor. Sadiq feels both nothing and everything at once. He is lost again, and there is no one left to find him.

Just as quickly as the chaos begins, it ends. A year must have passed, but it might have been less than a second. Time is meaningless now. However long later, Sadiq sits alone on the floor of his apartment, knees to his chest, his throat and eyes raw, surrounded by grey, torturous silence. He does not know when everyone arrived, when they left, or what they said. He does not even know exactly who they were. But those people do not matter. All he knows is that Heracles was taken with them, lifeless and colorless. He knows that Heracles is gone.

Grey. Silent. Alone. The end is identical to the beginning.

.

In the end, it should have been red.

On the last day it rains, just like it did the first.

With cold, grey tile pressed to his cheek, Sadiq gazes upon the aftermath of what he has just done and wonders why he does not regret it.

He never thought it would end like this. In a way, he always knew his end would not be gallant or heroic, nor sentimental and flooded with familiar faces… but he never thought it would end like this. Then again, Sadiq never thought he would see color, either. He certainly never believed it would be taken away so quickly, after months of keeping a secret no one should ever be burdened with. He never believed his fate would fade from him in his arms, speaking a name that wasn't his. But Sadiq never believed in fate. Maybe all this was an accident, a mistake made by the Gods in Heracles's blue covered books. Maybe this is simply what Sadiq deserves. Maybe it happened for no reason at all.

Vertigo hits, and he decides it doesn't really matter. Nothing mattered before Heracles, and nothing matters after him, either. He was the only man Sadiq could ever bring himself to love, and that went beyond fate, beyond coincidence, and rang true even if it could never, ever be returned. Sadiq loved an unobtainable dream, and now even that is gone.

And that is what brought him here. Brought him to this cold, grey bathroom floor, a fallen blade lying beside him and what should be red pooling from his wrists. Maybe this is cowardly. Again, it does not really matter.

The rain is his only company. While the familiar sound pounds in his ears, unfamiliar tears dampen Sadiq's tired eyes as the past months fly before them. Soft words, hard glares, a stolen kiss…all is burned into his mind. And now there is nothing. No green eyes, no blue books, no pink-flushed cheeks or pale yellow flowers blowing in the wind. Sadiq is already beginning to forget what all of it looked like.

Some memory must remain, and Sadiq closes his eyes to find it. The last, most breathtaking months of his life had been a torrent of color, all unfamiliar, all terrifying, all breathtaking and beautiful, and that is the piece of his life he wishes to end with. He does not wish to remember grey floors, grey rain-soaked skies, or what is left of his grey heart. He certainly does not wish to live to see anymore of it. Ending his story here is only fitting.

As all grows distant, he clings to green eyes, yellow umbrellas… even brown cats. He clings to them like Heracles clung to his hand. All spin in his mind like a lightshow, and Sadiq is not frightened by it. Rather, he is calm. Senses fade, his mind becomes white with haze, and the colorless world begins to slip away.

Sadiq fades as his smile does.

The End.


End file.
